


i'll take you there.

by ffomixam



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Cocaine, Creative liberties taken, Crushes, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Time Skips, driving under the influence, lost weekend, oral sex (female receiving)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 16:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18450737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffomixam/pseuds/ffomixam
Summary: The year is 1974. You’re the personal assistant of Paul and Linda McCartney. One spring day you meet the rather infamous John Lennon during the middle of his ‘Lost Weekend’ escapades. Spark fly and secrets unfold between the two of you.





	1. prologue | 1971.

 

Your first meeting with the McCartney couple was in the summer of ‘71. 

It had been a warm, sweltering, London summer, spent inside the offices of Abbey Road Studios. You were the intern of executive producer Robert Hardwell. A large sneering man, always ready to patronise you at every move.

The internship wasn’t more than being an assistant and secretary to his every demand. But you were good at what you did. And knew that even though his insults stung, you weren’t about to leave; it was  _ Abbey Road.  _

It had been  **the dream** of yours to work there ever since you were very little **.** And now you were there! In the flesh! You had worked your skin to the bones to get this far and you weren’t about to throw it away because of that man.

It was a Thursday at the end of July when you were called in the office of Mr Hardwell. The clothes you wore to work, neat and professional, felt restricting in the heat. The air conditioning in the lobby having been broken for days by now with no turn up from the called repairmen. 

You quickly took a sip of water before getting up from your work desk and knocked before entering his chill office. 

“Yes, sir?” 

He barely glanced up from the paperwork on his desk.

“You need to run down to Studio Three and check something for me. They seem to be having technical issues and I need the details promptly.”

“Right,” you nodded and stepped back out of the office. 

You quickly made your way down to the studio. It didn’t take long. While you had worked there for not even half a year yet; you had become familiar with the layout of the large building pretty quickly. You stopped in front of the door to the control room.

From the other side, you could hear loud chatter and the taint banging on drums. You tried to recall who was using the studio but ultimately failed in the endeavour; it was not part of your duties to know anyhow.

You readied yourself before knocking on the wooden door and headed inside.

“Hello?” You said as you carefully stepped inside. 

In the control room, there was three men and a woman. The men had their backs to you but the woman looked at you as you entered the room.

You immediately recognised her. It was Linda McCartney! And so you assumed the dark haired man near her, who was leaned over a control table, must be Paul; as you recognised the other two men who were now also looking at you.

You recognised them from the cafeteria and felt a dread creep in at the sight at one of them. A malnourished looking man with greased hair; a man who had on several occasions thrown inappropriate comments at you. His coworker was nice but completely clueless.

Your heart raced. You were never any good with crowds. And this wasn’t just any crowd. It included an ex-Beatle and his wife! Now you weren’t completely awestruck, having been nothing more but a casual fan during the mania, but was still feeling stunned in their presence.

Someone coughed and brought you back to reality. “Hi… I’m [full name], Mr Hardwell’s assistant. He sent me here to get him the… specifics of your technical difficulties.”

“Right,” Linda nodded and looked to Paul, who you now realised had been looking at you before glancing to his wife. Inside the studio, the drumming had stopped and you glanced through the window. Two men stood there. One behind the drumset, and one with a guitar in hand. The guitarist looked familiar but you couldn’t quite figure out why. Maybe another band?

“We’re, uh, not quite sure actually,” Paul spoke and you quickly looked to him, the beating of your heart picking up the pace again. He scratched the side of his nose looking like he was deep in thought, “we were just recording in the vocal booth when the power went out. But only in that room.” Linda nodded along to what he said.

That sounded familiar you thought, “oh!” You suddenly erupted as the answer came to you. The greasy haired man blinked in surprise. “We’ve had that problem before,” you grinned, enlivened, and stepped to the control board.

“We had the same problem last year when Cliff Richards was here to record Tracks ‘n Grooves, y’know. The power just went off and people ran around frantically for hours almost before we figured out it was because someone had turned on this,” you pointed to a small button, “which interferes with this,” you pointed to another similar one.

“They’re not supposed to be on at the same time which some people,” you glanced at your coworkers, “should know.”

You pulled back from the desk feeling proud. At being able to help them but also, that you had remembered that. It was well over a year ago, and you had been out drinking with a friend afterwards which resulted in a pretty tough morning after.

Paul flicked the switch to off and immediately you all saw the lights return in the vocal booth. You nodded with your hands on your hips, “yeah, it’s a strange technical hitch. I don’t know why they haven’t managed to fix it yet but, it’s not my field of expertise anyhow.”

Paul hmm’d and looked to you. “I’ve recorded here before and haven’t experienced it before.” 

You smiled politely, “then you had some good technicians on your team,” and did your best not to cast a pointing glance at the Greasy Haired Man, which you had decided to nickname him as you didn’t actually know his name.

“Well, I best be off,” you left before anything else could be said and your excitement could get to you. Besides you had work to do. Work that actually fell under your jurisdiction. Technical mishaps didn’t. 

You quickly reported back to Hardwell and got back to your work, but never getting your brief encounter with the McCartney’s out of your mind.

 

* * *

 

The next day, you came into the office drenched. That morning it had promised nothing but clear skies and sunny smiles but it hadn’t been long after you had left your apartment when rain erupted from the heavens above, almost like it was punishing you for your hubris in not bringing an umbrella.

You shook as you ran inside the studio building, cursing under your breath. The rainwater was warm and the office was humid from the still continuing lack of air conditioning. All pointed to a rather bad day.

You quickly placed your bag at your desk before running to the nearest bathroom to try and dry off your hair and whatever the best you could with your clothes. Your coat had taken most of the water but it still hadn’t been enough.

You couldn’t afford to spend much time during that as time neared the start of your workday and you reconciled with the best you could do in that time frame must be enough and went back to your desk.

The day passed quickly by without anything else noteworthy happening except for the poor start of the day. 

It wasn’t before when you were just about to leave when a letter courier entered the room that you took a paused from packing your bag. You stopped, hand still in the purse, and stared blankly at the man. 

He saw you and came to stand in front of the desk, “You Ms [full name]?” 

You carefully nodded a ‘ _ yes _ ’ and was handed an envelope. As he left, you carefully studied the text on it. Your name and office address were written in neat cursive. You turned it over and it had nothing but ‘The McCartney’s’ written on the back.

It took you back and you went completely still. Why would they send you a letter? Why would they even contact you? And if they did, why do it this way when you didn’t even work that far from the studio they currently used?

Your hand shook as you opened up the envelope and pulled out the letter. Its paper was crisp and a soft beige. The neat handwriting before was repeated in the content of the letter.

It didn’t say much. They invited you to come eat dinner with them the next day at a vegetarian restaurant you were unfamiliar with in Covent Garden. It stated time and exact location of the restaurant and that it would be paid for by them. It was written that it would not be taken in ill health if you were not to show up.

And, well, how could you refuse that? It was the McCartneys and, more importantly, free food. You had this weekend off so it aligned well enough. You rushed out the door, excited for the day to come.

 

* * *

 

The weather wasn’t much of an improvement from the day before. But this time you had at least been prepared in equipping yourself with an umbrella and a smart raincoat. You soon stopped outside of the restaurant and looked in, trying to see if you could spot them. 

A silly attempt really, not much was to be seen other than plants and other visitors. Your nerves were high and were only to be mixed with excitement as you headed inside.

“Welcome! Table for one?” you were immediately greeted by the maître d’ and quickly shook your head.

“I’m meeting someone here. McCartney?”

“Oh! They told me to expect you. Come right this way,” she smiled and guided you through the fancy restaurant. It was warm. A comfortable warmth. And there was a lovely smell hanging in the air of something you couldn’t quite place.

The hostess stopped in front of a table and you stepped around the see the McCartney’s sitting side by side behind the table, Linda’s hand locked with Paul’s on the table. An empty chair stood on the other side of them; placed so you would be facing the middle of them.

You muttered your thanks to the hostess as you sat down and looked to the couple feeling anxious.

“H-Hi,” you managed to say and smiled, grimacing slightly at your own stutter. They glanced shortly at each other before looking at you, almost eerie in their synchronization.

They smiled kindly and it helped calm you down. The light behind the crowning their heads; making Linda’s look more golden and Paul’s a clearer brown.

“Hi,” Linda greeted and reached her free hand across the table. You shook hands, hers a wonderful warm against your cold one. Paul greeted you equally pleasantly, with a smile that made you feel shy.

Menus were handed out and you quickly ordered your choice of drink. You ordered a simple diet coke while they ordered some fancy wine you hadn’t heard of before.

“We…” Paul glanced to his wife, “just wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday. You ran out so quickly we didn’t manage to at the time.”

You laughed, “right, I did do that, didn’t I?”

They smiled and Linda leaned slightly forward, “and there’s something else.”

Paul continued, “we’ve been in need of… personal assistance lately and, well, we had a look at your resume and thought that you were pretty much perfect for the role.”

You blinked. They had looked at your resume? Had they really been impressed that much by the simple flick of a switch?

“I… am?” You stuttered. There was a pause before they answered as the drinks arrived. It was Linda who answered, “you are more than qualified. And the pay will be better, if that’s a cause for concern.”

It was time to order the food and while the couple was busy with that you wondered; was it something you were interested in? Working for the McCartney’s rather than Mr Hardwell in Abbey Road?

It wasn’t a terrible thought. While Abbey Road Studios were something you had always dreamed of being, it hadn’t turned out to be quite what you looking for. Working for the couple would also most likely open more doors than Hardwell ever could.

You nodded to yourself and ordered. It was a vegetarian chili con carne and frankly hadn’t sounded too bad.

“We understand if it’s something you need time to think about,” Linda continued from before.

You shook your head, “No need. I’ve already decided.”

They silently looked at each other, anticipating your answer. You grinned.

“I accept.”

 

* * *

 

It was a year, three months and nine days after you started working for the McCartney’s (you did the math) that something happened that would change your life and your relationship with the people in it forever.

It was a late Friday evening and the three of you had been drinking quite heavily. The kids had gone to their grandparents for the weekend, allowing the young couple to rest. 

Through the year (and three months) you had become quite good friends and it almost felt like your working for them but rather helping out your friends.

You had been invited along for a fancy dinner and then drinks in their London apartment. After a short while you all had gotten drunk; enough for the next morning to be painful but not completely hellish. Enough to be aware of your actions and to remember them the next day too.

It was an hour into that that the conversation took a turn. Paul looked serious, the best one could look while drunk, and rested his hand on your knee while Linda lightly massaged his shoulders.

“We have…. something to ask of you,” he started and you glanced up from having looked at his hand on your knee, “it’s something we’ve thought… much about.”

You nodded, the force of moving it shook the rest of your body too and you tried not to spill your drink.

“We’ll really, really, enjoy it if you would, y’know, join us in… bed some time. Tonight?” He looked to Linda who lightly nodded and continued messaging his shoulders, though in slower motions than it had been before.

You gaped at them both, unsure of you had heard right.

Linda moved and placed her hand atop of her husbands, the one still rested on your knee. “You can say no and nothing will change from how we were at the start of the day,” she reassured.

“Oh… uh,” you looked back and forth between the hands on your knee and the bright eyes looking at you. Your heart beat harshly in your chest; feeling like it would break free of the confinements of your ribs at any moment.

You swallowed deeply, “I… don’t quite know what to say… I won’t lie and say that it’s nothing I haven’t thought about before.” 

They were both gorgeous people and you were only human. A human spending every day of the week around them. Feelings were abounded to flutter about in your young hopeless mind.

Deeply you knew what to say, the answer was clear but in your wine riddled mind, it all just seemed… more than it was. That this was the end-all and be-all. Despite what Linda had said.

And perhaps more thought was needed on the subject before an answer is given but that passing thought was quickly ignored as you answered with a flustered nod and took a chance with, “I’d love to.”

You had never seen a bigger grin on Paul as you did now as he looked at you and then as his wife. She was more subdued in showing her elation but it was clear that it was there.

They both stood up. You remained seated, suddenly feeling heavy and locked in place. They seemed to understand. Linda took the wine glass out of your hand as Paul took the other hand into his own and gently helped you up.

Linda caressed your arm as you were guided to the bedroom. The ease they seemed to go about it helped to relax you as the three of you reached the room.

You reached the bed and Paul disappeared out of your peripheral view. You turned around to look for him but was suddenly pushed unto the bed by Linda. It was a light shove, ending with you giggling on your back on the bed.

The bed moved on both sides, indenting down as the couple sat on either side of you. They seemed less sure of themselves as they had otherwise been so far. Maybe they hadn’t planned this far? Maybe they hadn’t planned for you to share their affections?

You blinked in the brief pause there was as they stared at each other, silently communicating. It wasn’t long before Paul leaned over you with a dark look in his eyes. His breath tickled your skin and smelled of brandy.

And then he kissed you. You heart stilled for a beat before picking up its usual routine of trying to burst out of your chest.

The kiss started out soft but slowly turned more and more into something… hungry. One of his hands were rested beside your hip. The other caressing your cheek.

You had all but near forgotten about the third person in the room before you felt the buttons of your shirt getting undone. 

You shivered and gasped into the kiss as a cold hand danced across your bare skin leading up to your bra. It tickled and you giggled slightly into the kiss.

Paul took it as an invite to lick your lips and let his tongue into the warmth of your mouth.

Linda caressed your sides as her husband busied you with his mouth upon yours. But it soon had to stop as the lack of air became evident.

Your face was warm and flushed as you breathed in the fresh air. It had been so long, too long, since you last had had such a good snog and your body was vibrating with excitement for more.

You started to lean up towards Paul but was quickly pushed back with a ‘tsk’ from the smirking man. You frowned and he said, “let’s get you undressed first, yeah?”

You slowly nodded and sat up, guided by Linda who still had her soft hands on your waist. You looked at her and she was completely naked, save from pants. You glanced at her breasts and felt yourself get warmer than you already were.

She smiled softly at you and unhooked your brassiere while her husband was fast at work on the buttons of your trousers.

Linda had begun to massage your breasts, causing you to moan at the soft touches, and the lower half of you were lightly picked up as Paul pulled down your trousers. 

Soon after your underpants were discarded as well, leaving you completely naked as a shiver travelled through your body.

Linda stopped and you whined after the touch, causing the couple to smirk at each other.  

You straighten up and looked to Paul but was met with a hand on your cheek that turned your head to meet a pair of soft lips. They tasted like red wine and you knew it was Linda. You continued to kiss and started to caress each other, nothing was left untouched.

As you parted, salvia the only bridge between the two of you, you saw that Paul was now completely naked. The lowered lights and stray shadows in the bedroom making it a pretty picture.

Oh, how grateful you were at that moment. Two stunning people, naked and in your presence. You sneakily pinched your arm. Just to check it was, in fact, actually happening.

Your breath hitched as he back on the bed and made his way towards you. He paused as his shoulders met your knees and you silently watched as he looked to his wife who nodded.

When he looked back up at you; you finally understood what had caused the pause. You nodded silent consent and he smirked.

Soon you felt his breath on your pubic mound and felt the familiar wetness of his mouth as he made his way further down to your vagina. 

An overwhelming sensation washed over you as he kissed and licked softly, the noises of it filling the room together with your strangled moans. 

Minutes felt like seconds as you reached your peak and shivered as you orgasmed. Linda bent down from having watched silently the two of you and kissed your jaw as you moaned out.

It wasn’t over. Yes, the orgasm had felt powerful as it coursed through your body but with it came the feeling of fearlessness and you placed your hands on both sides of her face and guided her lips to yours.

You feel sideways on the bed but it went unnoticed as you continued with your starving kisses. 

One of her legs had rested between yours and she started to grind down on your thigh to get any kind of friction she could get.

She moaned into the kiss and you groaned, at the sensation of her wetness on your thigh.

Paul was almost all but completely forgotten until when you heard him groan. In the small pause in your make out with Linda, you saw that he had started to stroke his erect cock at the sight of the two of you.

The sounds he made was beautiful, angelic even.

You hands crept down to Linda’s nether region as you had resumed kissing and you softly stroked; guiding her to a finish as Paul's moaning became louder along with hers.

She came and the pearls of soft moaning that escaped her mouth were enough for Paul to also cum and he sputtered upon his chest with his eyes shut.

You feel back into the bed, beyond exhausted, and fell asleep between the sweet embraces of the equally beat couple. Their sighing and the sound of their heartbeats lulling you to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. chapter one | a toot.

Nearly two years later, you were driving down Santa Monica Boulevard. It was early spring and fucking warm. A hellish warmth you had not yet grown accustomed to even as this was your umpteenth time to Los Angeles. And it was only March!

It was 1974. The air conditioning in your car was on full blast and you were surely at risk at getting a cold but you could care less at this point. The radio was on a random channel and played ‘Waterloo’ by ABBA. You remembered watching them win the Eurovision with the McCartney family at their farm in Scotland the previous month. Paul had otherwise been sure that Olivia Newton-John would’ve taken home the prize for the UK that year.

Speaking of; since that fateful night in 72’, you and the McCartney’s had grown closer. They had admitted that at first, they had only wanted a purely professional relationship but they soon came to have grown rather attached to you. That it wasn’t just sexually either. That they deeply cared for you.

Polyamory was a tricky subject, a taboo, and so it was a secret. Only known between the three of you. And Heather, who had once walked into her parents’ bedroom one morning in Kintyre and had seen you spooned between them. As she had previously understood it, you were the help and had your own room.

Her parents tried to explain it off, tried casting her thoughts astray, but she was eleven. And not stupid. Luckily, she had promised to keep it to herself and was awarded hot cocoa.

It was slightly complicated you realised. That if you had to theoretically explain it to someone. They had their separate relationship from you. As you had with each of them. Your time alone with, say, Linda was different from what you had alone with Paul. And different from when you all three were together.

You were still under the guise of a personal assistant and still served them in that aspect too. You had created clear boundaries and for when you worked and didn’t as to not abuse the clear power dynamic. Though, there had been times when it had been used for more… intimate situations.

But as for today; you were heading towards Burbank. Burbank Studios to be precise. You were to meet Paul and Linda there for some kind of… session? You were unsure. As Paul had told you; John Lennon was there, as well as other musicians. The day previously they had been recording and Paul thought it a good idea to drop in for a surprise visit.

Of that, you were unsure. You had read and heard things about John’s behaviour in the last few months. Of his drunken antics and him getting thrown out of a club together with fellow musician Harry Nilsson. And that was just last week!

And you didn’t even want to get started off how he had talked about Paul in the media, and through songs. Sure, Paul had done things of the same calibre but not at the same rate or degradation. You had cause for concern and wariness, you adamantly thought.

You reached the studio and turned into the large parking space. Signs pointed to where the various studios where. The hot gravel of some parking spaces was painted to indicate who the spot belonged to.

You drove nearly to end of the lot before you reached the spot where you were supposed to meet the McCartney’s.

You recognised their car and an open spot next to it were free, lucky you. You stopped out and covered your eyes from the sun as you looked around for the couple. You wore sunglasses but there was only so much it could do.

You spotted them sitting on a wooden bench under a large tree. Oak, it could look like but you really didn’t know. It was near the entrance of the studio where the double doors stood wide open, presumably to air out the lobby.

“Hot out today, huh?” You grinned at them as you neared them, hand still hovering above your eyes. They smiled and Linda back waved at you. They both looked great in the shade of the sun.

Linda wore a light blue sundress that fitted her wonderfully. Her shoulders were covered with a white knitted shawl.  You wore a matching blue tank top and white jean shorts.

Paul wore one of his many vests, it was dark red with an… interesting pattern. You couldn’t quite tell what it was supposed to be. It looked like just a bunch of white circles to you. Under neat, it was a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. And he also wore a pair of white jean shorts, though longer than the ones you wore.

As you neared them, they stood up and dragged you into a hug. It was nice and short. It was cool under the shade of the giant tree, giving you a short release from the unbearable heat that you were sure of that you would never become accustomed to.

You had last seen them earlier that morning. You had left quickly, immediately after breakfast, to run errands that had kept you out and away from them until now. You had known them for almost three years by now, intimately for two, and yet it seemed all seemed like it was yesterday. You always missed them the moment you were parted and you were always excited to see them again. Like… a puppy, you realised. Huh.

“Ready for this?” You asked Paul as you separated from the hug. Both you and Linda were looking at her. She looked calmer than you felt. Which were, actually, pretty easy. You felt like a nervous wreck. You probably had over thought it. Oh, it was going to be fine.

He nodded and looked towards the entrance. He looked calm, but you knew his tells. He was fidgeting with an unlit cigarette. His other hand clung to Linda’s hand who was lightly caressing the back of his hand were her thumb.

And you had the thought that you were brought along more as emotional support rather than as a personal assistant.

Paul finally brought the cigarette to his lips and you helped light it as his other hand was still trapped in the soft confines of Linda’s. He softly nodded and turned with Linda and they made their way over the bright grass to the open doors. You quickly followed.

The inside was only a little chiller. A fan was rotating for all its might left to right in a corner near the receptionist desk. The receptionist didn’t even glance up as you all stepped inside.

“It’s down this way,” you murmured and pointed down a large hallway. You had studied the layout of the place almost immediately after you had been told you were going there the previous day. You were here early.

As you reached the end of the long hallway, a strumming of an acoustic guitar was heard from behind closed double doors. You paused and glanced at Paul. His nervousness hadn’t changed. He still fidgeted around and practically clung to Linda. But as you stood and listened to the music, you realised that it must be familiar to Paul. It had brought a positive change to him. His posture relaxed and he snuffed out his smoke before stepping inside.

The first thing you noticed as you stepped inside was the strong smell of pot. A smell that you had gotten very acquainted with ever since you started working for the McCartney’s. They smoked it in abundance while you rarely touched it. Frankly, it wasn’t to your taste.

The strumming stopped and immediately after you heard the scraping of a chair getting pushed back as if someone were standing up. You looked to the source and saw that it was one, John Lennon. He was putting down an acoustic guitar while looking towards your group.

“Paul!” He smiled and very quickly stood in front of the aforementioned man. They looked at each other in a soft way that you haven’t expected. You had expected animosity or bitterness. But as they stood in front of each other, it was as if they’ve never argued before.

They didn’t hug as you had almost expected, but they shook hands. John’s cradling Paul’s. A greeting of close and intimate friends. You glanced to Linda, and she didn’t seem puzzled by it at all. You felt like you were missing out on something big.

They parted. “How’ve you been?” Paul asked in a low voice that you almost didn’t hear. “Good, good” he nodded but his voice wavered. From the pot or something else, you didn’t know. “What’re you doing here?” He asked of Paul. “I was in the neighbourhood, y’know. Though I’d drop by,” he smiled. Charmingly, you would say.

John laughed and patted Paul on the shoulder.

Then, John turned to look at Linda and you. Paul stood still, still looking at John. Looking him up and down, softly, and as if he were studying him. You too silently looked the man over. He was wearing bell bottoms and a flimsy, almost see-through, bottom-up shirt. His hair stopped just past his jaw and he wore round glasses. Similar to ones you had seen him wear in multiple pictures of the last few years of The Beatles. 

“Hi, John,” Linda greeted and he nodded back to her. It was then he looked at you, his eyes narrowing as someone would when crucially studying something new. You decided to interrupt that and introduce yourself; “I’m [full name]. The personal assistant of Mr and Mrs McCartney.” You sounded more… robotic than you had planned and inwardly winced, unsure of how that would come across to this familiar stranger.

Familiar stranger. Sure. You had met John Lennon before. Briefly. And not something he would remember. It was in passing back in your time at Abbey Road as the all but official secretary of Robert Hardwell. It was early into your time there in 1970. John and Yoko Ono had passed you by on their way into Hardwell’s office. John had glanced at you and it was all you thought of for the rest of the month.

Oh, how things had changed.

“Glad to meet ye,” his hand reached out to you and you shook it with a polite smile. His hand was warm and calloused, evidence of decades of guitar playing. It was a short shake and almost immediately after he let go; the double doors behind you opened up again.

You looked over your shoulder to see a young Asian woman standing in the entrance. Perhaps closer to your age than the other three. She appeared Chinese, with long dark hair nearing her waist. She wore a lovely lilac halter top matched with dark shorts that appeared to be velvet. Dark sunglasses rested on the top of her head and you noted that she was a very attractive woman.

John immediately went to her and gave her a hard kiss on the mouth. You awkwardly coughed and turned around to ‘study’ the room. Giving them some sense of privacy, though you had the feeling it wasn’t a concern of theirs. You had never been one for public displays of affection. Especially now when you had two loves you could do nothing with in public.

You didn’t wonder about the woman who John kissed. You had read somewhere about John and Yoko having separated or… something of the kind. You weren’t sure of the details and, frankly, it wasn’t any of your business anyway. Only if it in any way affected Paul and Linda.

The room wasn’t anything special for a studio. It was large and had a lot of various instruments and the appropriate electronics. You heard John speak. He was introducing the woman to Paul and Linda. May Pang, you heard him say. The name sounded familiar. Maybe you had read it somewhere in relation to John’s separation from Yoko.

Your back was still turned and you were walking further into the room. Chairs were scattered around the room from previous use and a large spot in the middle of the room was covered in light from a rooftop window. You stepped into it and closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the sun overwhelm you.

You heard the sound of footsteps and voices getting louder and you sighed as you stepped back out of the sunspot. You turned back to the group and saw that more people had entered the studio. Linda was looking at you and smiled as your eyes met. She motioned slightly for you to come to her side.

When you got there you noticed that one of the new additions to the room was Harry Nilsson. A musician you were familiar but more importantly, the other half to the duo of John Lennon and his newsworthy drunkenness. A cause for concern.

Two men stood on each of Harry’s side. One looked Native American and was holding a guitar case. The other; a white man with a saxophone hanging from his neck. Neither looked familiar to you but it was clear why they were here. It was a music session, after all, not just some meet and greet.

You were quickly introduced to them by Paul. Jesse Ed Davis, the guitars. And Bobby Keys, the saxophonist. You shook hands and introduced yourself to them and Harry Nilsson. Loud coughing was heard and you turned your head to see the source was none other than John who had turned on another joint and was sharing it with his… girlfriend? Mistress? She had been called many things in the various papers you had read concerning the topic.

“Oh, is that Ringo’s drums?” You head Paul exclaim and turned to watch him near a drumset. You didn’t know much about drums. Really, instruments in general other than the basics you had to know as a touring personal assistant.

John exhaled smoke out of his nose and laughed; “well, it’s his name on it, innit?”

Laughter was shared throughout the room and the joint was passed as the group gathered around in a small circle. You took a huff or two but no more as you wanted to be clear minded and focused for the rest of the session. You wouldn’t consider yourself overly protective but this day you felt uneasy in the vicinity of John and Paul. Linda had told you all about the depression and drunken states Paul had gone through after The Beatles had broken up. And you had seen first hand how the humiliating comments John had given to journalists had affected Paul.

A knock on the door and when it opened cheers erupted, taken you slightly by surprise as you were yet to have seen who had earned the commotion. You glanced over and saw; Stevie Wonder! You held back a gasp. Very rarely did you get starstruck but this was a man you couldn’t help but admire, even as you sat in a room with two ex-Beatles. Besides, he had just won a slew of Grammy’s just a few weeks earlier.

None of the other people could say the same. At least not for this year.

“Do I have the right room?” He laughed as he was greeted by John and Harry who had gotten up on their feet. You smiled and looked at the small woman beside him. Who she was, you couldn’t tell. Her ebony hair was styled in a beautifully rounded afro and a keychain around her neck, dangling down her orange shirt, especially drew your attention. It looked similar to the one you wore and had seen multiple PAs wear over the years. Was that what she was?

People spread throughout the room to each their own different instruments, except you and the woman who had come with Stevie Wonder. You took the chance and introduced yourself to her as you came up by her side.

“Hello, I’m [full name]. Personal assistant to the McCartney’s,” you smiled and reached out your hand for her to shake. She grabbed it firmly with a wide smile and shook. “Nice to meet you. I’m Michelle Jacobs. I work for Stevie, also as a PA.” Her smile was polite and kind, and you couldn’t help but feel comfortable in this strangers presence. You were unsure of why, maybe it was the shared work, but something about her was different from all the other new people you had met that day.

You stood near the entrance and watched over the crowd with Michelle at your side. Paul had seated himself behind Starr’s drums with Linda sitting nearby behind an organ, close by Stevie Wonder sat also behind something; this object being an electric piano. On the other side of Paul was John. He was leaned back against the wall with his guitar placed neatly in his lap, you stared at him as you watched him seem to study Paul who was fidgeting around with the various… mechanism of the drumset.

May Pang was on her feet near John with a tambourine in hand, and as she moved; slight pearls of melodic sounds would come from the tiny instrument. Harry Nilsson and the duo he had arrived with closed the little square grouping, each tending to their own instruments.

Various mismatches of sounds filled the room. Several strummed their guitars, either from being tuned or from someone warming up. Paul and John talked as May watched on and Linda was discussing something with Stevie. You were tempted to go join them but didn’t want to intrude so you stayed by the door with your new acquaintances Michelle.

“How long have you worked for the McCartney’s?” You were asked and turned to see Michelle’s dark eyes looking back out you. You smiled politely, “about three years now.”

“Wow,” she slightly gaped. Was three years a lot? You really had no idea. For you, it had gone by so fast and you could easily do it for three years more. “I’ve been with Stevie for… Hm, nearing a year this summer.” She nodded, more to herself than you.

Someone knocked and watched over your shoulder as an elderly bespectacled man entered the room. He appeared tall and his salt and pepper were complimented with a matching beard.

“Hello,” he nodded to you and Michelle and proceeded to enter the room. You glanced to the woman beside you with a raised brow in question and she leaned in to whisper, “that’s Ed Freeman. He’s a producer.”

You watched as he stopped to talk to Harry. And then John. Before then picking up a bass guitar and looking it over in concentration.

It took a while but people seemed to finally all be on the same track as to what to play. The room got came to a low volume of muttering and small laugher as microphones, headphones, and various objects got passed around. Along with them so was several joints, which you passed on again.

You stared as John seemed to be snorting something that, when you narrowed your eyes, was clearly cocaine. You sighed. Of course, cocaine was brought into the mix of music and weed. It was Los Angeles, wasn’t it? It was offered to Paul and Linda who, thankfully, refused.

And as the music started on a low hum, the sweet blend of the acoustic guitar with the electric and bass, you heard John again this time offering some to Stevie by asking, “You wanna snort, Steve? A toot? It’s goin’ round.” It was accepted and then asked to be passed around. It never made it to you and Michelle, and you wouldn’t have accepted it regardless.

Throughout the day, not much was done in the way of making music. Sure, they played and had a blast but a lot of it couldn’t be used for multiple reasons. Trouble with either mics or headphones kept popping up between the pauses that were taking as someone either smoked or snorted. At some point, you had moved to sit on the floor between Paul and Linda’s instruments. Quietly listening along to the music and getting the occasional careful huff of marijuana.

Maybe he thought he was being slick. But it didn’t work; as you clearly saw John stare at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking. What was it? You had to fight back the temptation of staring uncourtly back, as in some way of showing dominance, as you didn’t want to cause some sort of scene.

But it was distracting. His long hair and thick sideburns, aquiline nose staring you down.

You willed the thoughts away and focused rather on the playing of drums and piano on both sides of you. And of the singing that came from multiple people throughout the room; though John stayed the dominant voice in your mind.

At the end of the day; and all but few had left, you had gone out to stretch your legs and to leave the smoke-filled room. You had managed through it would out any big ordeal. Songs were sung, or yelled depending on your tastes.

You had said your goodbyes to Stevie and Michelle equally. Aside from the anxiety at the start of the day; you hah had a good time. And a nice talk with Michelle, including sharing work stories.

It was still bright out, the evening sun beginning to ever so slightly shine orange, and the parking lot was more filled with more cars than it was when you had arrived that morning.

Paul and Linda were sitting in a rented convertible. The roof was down, exposing them to the light summer breezes. They were talking and laughing loudly with John who wearing leaning into the car while smiling brightly and entirely focused Paul.

May was standing close by, her arms crossed as she held a small purse. Her sunglasses were down and so you couldn’t tell where she looked, that was until her head turned towards you and she waved you over with a smile.

Getting there you heard bits of the Lennon-McCartney conversation, mainly lead by an excited John.

“-we have loads of food! And drinks, it won’t be a concern.” John had a large grin on his face as he told Paul of his plans. He briefly glanced your way as the asphalt cracked under your feet, an indication of your arrival.

“Oh, sounds wonderful. Right, Linda.” Paul looked to his wife who silently nodded with a smile. “The kids should be asleep now anyway.”

He finally noticed your presence and gave a tiny wave. You came closer, placing yourself next to John.

“Are you fit to drive?” You asked, trying not to sound as nervous as you felt. He had smoked a lot more than you had, and even with that small amount, you were unsure about the thought of driving.

“Yeah,” he nodded while beating a melody unto the steering wheel.

John laughed, suddenly, and gave you a hard pat on the back. He stepped away from the car. “You can follow my car. It’s the white one over there,” he pointed to a rather small car. But not too dissimilar to the one Paul and Linda were going in.

Before you could say anything; May, who had otherwise been silent, stepped forward and looked to you. “We thought you could come along, if you wanted to.”

You glanced to Linda and Paul, silently wanting their approval. It was granted by Linda as she, with her hand on Paul’s bicep, nodded.

“Sure,” you answered looking back at May. She smiled softly and looked towards John with a nod. He was busying himself in the car, looking mildly bored waiting for May.

While you hadn’t been the biggest fan of certain antics that had happened during the day; you couldn’t quite say that going to John and May’s house was the last thing you would want to do. They had interested you in certain ways, and you were still determined in figuring out why John had stared at you like that earlier in the day.

And regardless of this being a thing you wanted or not; you had a feeling it could be worthwhile. Dining with your secret lovers and with an ex-Beatle and his mistress slash girlfriend? What could possibly go wrong?


	3. chapter two | fine dining.

John and May’s shared home was a beach house near the road between Santa Monica and Malibu. It was shared between them and other musicians working on Harry Nilsson’s upcoming album, that John was also producing. Something that you were told as you stood in front of the lavish house surrounded by various tropical plants and trees. Not the type of building you had imagined someone like Lennon to live in.

The exterior was made of concrete made in a modern and minimalistic style. A popular design in the neighbourhood you had noted as you had driven by many similar designs. You stood leaned against your car, now wearing your jean jacket, as you silently looked over the building as Paul and John talked animatedly about one thing or another. Linda and May stood and talked to each other but in a quieter fashion and you slowly made your way over to them as Linda had spotted you and waved you over.

Linda turned to you with a smile; she appeared tired, “[first name], could you call Ms Sanders on the car phone and check on the kids?” You nodded and smiled politely to May as you turned around and walked to the McCartney’s car. You leaned over the edge of the convertible and carefully dialled the number. It didn’t take long before someone picked up.

“Hello, Ms Sanders? This is [full name], the McCartney’s personal assistant.”

“Oh, hi! … Is something the matter?”

You laughed lightly, “no no, I’m just calling for Linda to check on the girls.”

The woman on the other end became silent and you could hear the background noise of movement. Instead of starting to worry; you calmed yourself with the thought that she probably had gone off to look for the girls. It was late and well past their bedtime after all. You glanced over your shoulder as you waited and saw that John was again looking at you, silently as Paul talked to him still. Your eyes narrowed as he didn’t seem to realise you had noticed him. You were bending over the door of the car to be on the phone and, well, it wasn’t completely out of the question he was taking you out. You flushed at the rather ridiculous thought (surely, he wasn’t!) and returned to stare down into the car as you waited.

“Oh, dear,” the woman on the other end reemerged with the line and your heart stilled at it. Was something wrong? “Little Mary isn’t feeling well and wants her parents to come home.”

You placed your hand over your chest as you turned around as much as the phone’s cord would allow and looked over at the couple. They were talking in a little circle with the other pair at the entrance of the house, presumably waiting for you. “Hang on,” you mumbled and yelled Linda’s name and waved her over and pointed at the phone in your hand.

“Here’s Linda now,” you told the babysitter and handed over the phone to Linda who had hurried to the car. You stepped aside and watched Linda silently with your arms crossed. You were quickly joined by Paul who looked at you questioningly. You shrugged and looked at the entrance where John and May stood looking at the three of you.

“Honey,” Linda got the attention of the both of you. She had only meant it for Paul this time around but you had been called it enough by her that it was an innate instinct to react. She sighed, looking more tired than before but now with the added bonus of worrying. You felt you knew where her sentence was going next and uncrossed your arms in preparation for it.

“We need to get back to the hotel. Mary’s sick.”

Paul nodded. You knew he wasn’t at all hesitant to rush to Mary’s side in any circumstance but there was something about the situation now. He had finally gotten together with John again. No matter your current thought and feelings about the former Beatle; he was still important to Paul. You would offer to could in their stead but the idea would be shot down, so much you knew. From six pm earlier that day you had time off for the next two weeks and it was of your own volition that you had gone with them to John and May’s place.

“I’ll explain it to them,” you nudged your head in the direction of the house, “so you can just leave,” you reassured them as Linda stepped around the car to get into the passenger seat. Paul nodded, again, and went to sit in front of the steering wheel as he glanced to the house. You patted on softly on the shoulder and soon after they took off. You turned towards the house and mentally prepared yourself was what to follow. Lord, keep check on your patience.

You slowly made your way over to them while going through what to say.

“Sorry,” you said as you went up the stairs that lead to the front doors of the house. They stood wide open and you could look inside to see a rather neat and tidy entrance. “They youngest got sick so they had to leave,” you folded your hands together and glanced at John. He seemed disappointed.

“Aw, too bad. Give them our well wishes, alright?” May did look distraught, more so than John did who just muttered a ‘ _yeah_ ’ and stepped inside the house. May glanced at him as he went and then turned back to you as he disappeared out of sight.

“You can still come in for dinner, you want to,” she smiled politely at you and, well; how could you refuse that? You were still hungry. Smiling back, you nodded, “sure.” And was guided inside the house.

It was as you had seen when you were waiting outside… Neat. A surprise to you when you thought of the house as a shared colony of shorts for  _musicians_. You had been around enough to know that outside of making music and taking care of their instruments; they typically wearing the tidy sort. Either there were exceptions to the rule or they had a  _really_  good cleaning crew.

“Hope you like Indian!” May smiled and looked at you over her shoulder as you followed her to the kitchen. There; John already stood with the food laying out in front as he smoked what presumably was a normal cigarette. You shrugged. You weren’t against Indian food. You had gotten it a couple of times with Paul whenever he got nostalgic about his time in India.

“She joining us?” He asked, looking at May and not even glancing in your direction. Hm, you crossed your arms at that. You were getting to be rather miffed as his constant aloofness towards you.

“For dinner, yes,” she answered with a slight giggle as he was grinning. You felt you had missed something. An inside joke, perhaps? You slightly shook your head at yourself and sat down on one of the many bar stools that surrounded the kitchen high table that John stood at with May while preparing the food. You scratched your neck and looked around. The design of the kitchen was very modern, you thought. Very minimalist and one coloured. You wondered who had chosen the house and if they also had stood for the decorations. It didn’t exactly match the vibes you got from the couple in front of you.

They in silence went and took out plates and glasses, preparing the food like taking it out of containers and reheating it. God, you should make small talk, shouldn’t you? The silence was unbearable and while May seemed like a really nice girl; you were very much unsure of what to feel about John.

You coughed slightly and asked, “how long have the two of you been together?” Your eyes followed John around as he took out different kinds of food, each on their own plate. It looked to be legs of Tandoori Chicken, Samosas and Chicken Tikka Masala with a lot of rice. Well, you didn’t have to worry about starving it seemed. Three large bottles of lager stood next to the glasses. They were covered in moisture from the change of climate, from the cold fridge to the warm summer night that had crept inside the house.

“Oh,” May exclaimed, quickly glanced to John before pausing in what she was doing to look at you, “last year. Though we’ve known each other for a few years before that.”

You nodded and looked down at your folded hands in thought. It was probably not best to continue on that subject. He was still married to Yoko Ono. Whether he had cheated on her with May and then went to live with her after he was found out or something, you didn’t know. But, honestly, it really wasn’t your business to know.  “So, uh, how long have you worked for Paul and Linda?” She in return asked you. So you looked back up at her. She smiled at you very sweetly while John’s back was turned to you.

“Close to three years.”

She nodded with a smile, looking to and from you and John. You wondered what was on her mind, she seemed expectant of something; but what? Mentally you shrugged. You really had to stop being so suspicious. Let bygones be bygones or whatever fitted into the current situation.

They sat down in front of you, next to each other, and placed the dishes out. Three plates were filled with the Tikka Masala and were placed out in each of you while the Tandoori Chicken and Samosas were in the middle to just take from, you assumed. It looked and smelled good. Since moving in and living with the McCartney’s you had gone vegetarian as it was what you were. But it wasn’t something you followed strictly and they understood that, so you didn’t feel bad when you reached out for a chicken leg as stomach groaned in hunger.

You quickly got through the food without much conversation. You felt… not completely at unease but something like it. There right in front of you sat John Lennon. It was much to go through. You had been such a fan of his and The Beatles. And then you got to be working with one of them! You had always thought they were such good friends but there just seemed to be so much hostility post-breakup of the band and you had seen first hand how it affected Paul. You had to think empathetically and remember; it takes two. And you knew well enough Paul could hand out a few choice words himself, so you had to consider what John might have had gone through too. Though, it might also just be nostalgia from your teens and your intimate relationship with Paul that could all muddled up into a… just confusing mess.

You knew enough to not take any shit from John if he decided to dish some.

You were sitting still, sipping your beer as John stood in the kitchen cleaning up dishes and what else had been used as May sat in front of you talking animatedly. “It’s so nice to talk to another woman again!” She laughed and your attention snapped back at her as you had been rather unfocused on your conversation with her as you had been staring at John’s backside… His back! … Okay.

You frowned slightly at her and she explained; “I feel like I’m just surrounded by men lately. Sadly not many women working in the business, you know?” You nodded. Sure, there were women in music. But it was rare they were anything but the artists. You could only hope that would change.

You weren’t uninterested in her or whatever conversation she was making, it just that you felt rather easily distracted in this large… white as hell… house. Seriously, who wants to live like this? And then there was the eternal subject of John. His existence was easy to forget when he wasn’t right in front of you… totally noticing that you were (again) staring at him. Well, he did it earlier so why not make it a competition.

But just as your eyes narrowed as you both looked at each other; a crack of thunder shot down outside causing you to jump off your seat at the sudden noise. “Shit!” You blurted out and felt your heart beat violently in your chest. That had really taken you by surprise. May had immediately stood up as you did, though it looked like it was out of concern than shock. The thunder had been the crack that opened the sky up and now the sound of rain pelting the roof was almost deafening as John hurried around, with a tiny smirk on his face, to close the windows. May gently touched your bicep and asked, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “sorry.”

The last part was as a quieter volume as you had been slowly feeling the embarrassment of your shock creep up your neck. You weren’t… scared of thunder. It had just really taken you back. But it really looked like getting home would be difficult as you stared out of the window over the kitchen sink. It was pitch black and you could feel the effect of the day suddenly hit you.

May seemed to have the same thought and said, “you’re welcome to stay in one of the guest rooms for the night. It looks dangerous to drive out in this weather.”

You sighed, defeated, with a nod. It only made sense to stay. And you were sure Paul and Linda would be… less than happy if you crashed your car or, I don’t know,  _died_. Rather alive in John’s house than dead in a ditch. Maybe if you considered it ‘ _May’s house_ ’ the thought with fill you less with anxiety and more with comfortability.

Was anxiety what it was though? He hadn’t been horrible to you personally. And Paul seemed happy to see him today. So maybe you should just but a break on those thoughts and think positive! Like you’ve been saying to yourself multiple times that day! Jeez.

“Thank you so much,” and you really meant it. You were so exhausted. Head not willing to shut up about one thing or another or John. Having had beer, even a little pot. Your body was ready to shut down.

“John,” May turned away with a kind smile from you to look at her boyfriend, “will you show her to it?”  

He… hesitated as he looked at the both of you. C’mon, dude, show a little sportsmanship. As the kind, you were willing to do. In theory. If he didn’t jeopardise it. Not that he was any aware of the many warnings you had assigned to him… Well.

“I’ll be glad to,” he flashed a smile and nodded to you as he passed you by towards a flight of stairs you had seen in the foyer. You went up the stairs and through a slim hallway in silence. What kind of small talk could you make with a man like that? He had already gone through so much. And shared so much Paul. Or had. Or whatever their relationship was. Today had confused you on that point.

“Here you are,” he said and opened up a stark white door. The design of the room wasn’t much different than the rest of the house. Though in this case, you found it rather calming. A bedroom should have a calming aesthetic as it should be a place for rest. Most of the time at least. The wall furthest in the room had a wall long window. Neat.

You turned around as you took in the room. Sleeping in a strange place was always weird but this wouldn’t be… bad.

“What’d you think?” It came from John and you turned with a raised brow to look at him again. He cared what you thought about the place? You shrugged, seemingly aloof as you told him, “it’s nice. And very… beige,” you let out a small laugh as you turned to look at a painting that hung proudly over a cypress dresser.

You glanced at him, finally had enough with your thoughts; “who’s to… blame for the design of the place?” You looked back at the painting. It was done in an abstract style. Ugly but probably very fun to look at when high off your balls in LSD or some shit. He came to stand next to you as you studied the painting. He was smiling and it looked kinda… nice.

It wasn’t before he talked that you noticed how close he actually was standing;

“Dunno. One of Harry’s guys.”

You nodded, now in a daze, as you took in the various scents he had brought along. Weed and a touch of sweat and cologne… Nice, in a way. It made you feel… kinda tingly. Tingly… hmm, let’s just say… Nauseous? I mean, weed and sweat? Totally not something to blush about- right? Damn. Oh, you were back to the staring game. Staring at each other. Did he feel weird about this as well? Annoyed? Irritated? Anything like you felt?

May suddenly appeared in the open doorway and you jolted away from John as if electrocuted. He looked amused as he watched you bump into the bed that hadn’t been much further away from you and you landed on your ass on the soft covers with a light ‘thud’ and a slight bounce. God, what kind of reaction was that?

May giggled lightly, probably a little intoxicated but mostly due to the fool you were making of yourself. She then said, “the bathroom’s just down the hall. John and I are staying in the room next to yours.”

You nodded while feeling pretty hot faced. You hadn’t acted like such a fool around a man (or a couple for that matter) since you first started working for the McCartney’s. All your stoic and ‘cool’ attitude and the composure you usually held just threw itself right out the window. But this was different. Surely!

The meanwhile you had panicked mentally at everything going on; John had made his way to May’s side and had his arm around her waist. “Sleep tight!” She smiled, kinda cute, with a small wave. “And don’t let the bed bugs bite ya,” John added with a smirk before shutting the door close. You had them go down the hall and into their rooms next door. It didn’t bode well that the walls seemed to be so… thin.

And as you had undressed and crawled under the covers, you soon found out why. You could hear the couple talking. You could make out what exactly just muffled familiar voice… That soon quieter and into… Oh, God… Moans? Were they… making love with a guest over? Well, Christ, they did live with a handful of other people. Maybe it was just something they didn’t consider. But still, they were right next door!

Shit, you were too tired to care… or let the various… erotic sounds really have an effect on you. You willed those demons away and covered your head with the blanket as you quickly feel into a slumber with rather weird dreams.


	4. chapter three | a sea side luncheon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "and after eight thousand years, she finally updated

You woke up to the sound of the soft knocking on wood. On a door, more precisely the door to the room you were in. You yawned out a muffled ‘ _yeah_ ’, unsure if it was loud enough to be heard. But as you sat up with the duvet tightly around you in the bed you had borrowed for the night; the door opened up and in stepped May. You stretched out your arms and cracked your knuckles as you watched her step inside.

“Good morning,” she greeted you with a slight giggle. You were sure of why. You were always a mess in the mornings and you could feel the hair on your head folding in strange angles. You looked around for your shirt and quickly threw it on as she entered the room, closing the door behind her. She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked over at you as you slowly woke up and tried to be more aware of your surroundings. The place was overly bright and you noticed it was mostly because you had forgotten to close the drapes over the large window the night previously. But the decor too was a horrible light colouring.

“I put an unused toothbrush out to you in the bathroom. It’s the yellow one,” she told you with a smile as you patted down your hair and combed it with your fingers. 

“You can use my hairbrush too,” she leaned in with a slight laugh and although you were tired, you tried to join in on it but was quickly interrupted by a yawn. You nodded and got out of the bed by crawling off its end and hopped into your shorts, hoping she wasn’t looking as you did so. Hoping for some privacy. 

Once on the floor; you stretched again and looked at May while thinking of what to do today. You supposed you should get back to the hotel for a shower and a change of clothes. Wouldn’t be too bad. You had a completely free schedule for the next two weeks and the hotel was booked for that time too. You weren’t used to that. You found a great sense of joy in your work and knowing exactly what came next and what to do. This… was strange.

May, fortunately, interrupted your thoughts that was slowly declining into an existential crisis;

“I thought we could go get breakfast together? Show you around town and talk?”

She was smiling, very sweetly. Politely. Damn, you couldn’t say no to that. And it solved your problem too. Though you wondered why she was even interested in getting to know you. You had thought it was just a friendly gesture the night before to let you stay the night and then you would be ousted out and gone the moment you were awake. But, apparently not.

“Sure,” you nodded with a shrug. You did feel quite hungry. You assumed it would just be the two of you based on how she asked but you wanted to be sure, so you quickly asked; “what about John?”

“He’s already at the studio with Harry,” she said still with a smile as she slightly shook her head. Her long, and rather beautiful, hair flowed lightly along with the movement. 

Good. You were still so unsure of what you thought of the man. It was getting to a point of headaches and you just wished to forget all about him and move the fuck along. You had enough to deal with this horrible flashback to teenage hormonal crushes. If it was even that.

… And moving on from  _that_ , you followed her out the room and went to the bathroom where you were told she had laid out an unused toothbrush for you to use together with the appropriate paste. The handle of it was a bright yellow.

**—**

Later on; you found yourself on the patio of a high-end café in central Hollywood. It was nice and with a beach view. You saw several bikini-clad women who could easily be models by the way they appeared and acted as if the touch of wet sand was highly offensive to them. On another note; you saw several small children and dogs enjoying the good life.

May had driven you there; leaving your car back at her and John’s place. Leaving you to inevitably to return there. Hopefully at a time without John’s presence.  _God_ , you did not appreciate your brain for returning constantly to your thoughts of him. He was married! With a… lover? Mistress? … Girlfriend? Who the fuck knows. And you had Paul and Linda. Though, keeping in mind they had told you to not feel tied down to them and … to  _explore_  your own interests and sexuality. But, you were sure they hadn’t had Lennon in mind.

Your thoughts were interrupted by an appearing waiter. He carried two plates of food and left with a wink in your direction. May giggled as you rolled your eyes at the back of the man.

“You seemed deep in thought,” May astutely commented as she looked at you through her dark sunglasses. She wasn’t wrong. You had been. So deep in fact that you had almost completely forgotten about her. Which, admittedly, was rather rude done of you. Not that she seemed to mind.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, or rather mumbled, as you scratched the side of your nose (a habit picked up from being around Paul) and picked up a fork to dig into your serving of Pasta Primavera. May had gotten the same but an addition with shrimp.

“Just a… uh, a lot going on up here,” you said with a mouth full of spinach while you pointed with your forkless hand to your temple. 

Her nose squinted at the sight of your open mouth and chewed up food. But you soon found out it wasn’t a look of disgust as she gave out a peal of laughter. She seemed to be easy to laughter, you noted as you swallowed down the rest of your food. Though you still were, as it were, on the fence about John; who seemed to have been lucky in finding someone like May. While you weren’t interested in her the way he obviously had been (if the sounds coming from their right last night were any indication), she was a wonderful person. From what you had experience and gathered from her so far.

She offered to pay as you readied yourself to leave the wonderfully quaint café. Your refusals were ignored as she got the attention of the waiter and you soon were on your way out and unto the hot stone sidewalks of L.A.

“Where to now?”

You asked as you put on a well-worn pair of sunglasses. You had the expenses for new ones but, hey, these worked great still. If it ain’t broke…

“Thought we could take a stroll,” she smiled sweetly at you as she looked around the neighbourhood. The sound of seagulls and ocean waves filled your ears, working greatly to calm your anxieties buried deep in your chest.

“And talk,” which was followed with a wink. That puzzled you but you said nothing of it. Did she have something planned? Or was that just random winking? (As you do).

You followed her down the long boulevard and were lead to a small pathway that lead to the beach; all while she talked of many things, all which seemed to lead back to John. It made you wonder (as you often did). Was she just that into him? She hadn’t seemed to type to obsessive about the relationship but, well, people have their surprises. She talked of dogs; it lead to her telling you of a dog John had as a kid. Okay. She talked of the weather; which again turned into something about John. God, it was just John John John. And you didn’t know if you liked it! You felt a small pulling feeling in your chest, like a string on a tooth slowly trying to pull it out; wanting to ask about him. Wanting to know everything about him. You couldn’t! Wouldn’t want to know! … Right?

“So, what do you think about John?”

She asked in a sweet, almost carefully, voice as you walked side by side in the bright shade of the sun. You were kicking up tuffs of sand, only half listening to the words coming out of her mouth. John made you feel… dizzy.

“Huh?”

You looked over at her with narrowed eyes. What did you think about… John? Was that the point of the whole thirty minutes she had spent talking about him? For your opinion? Sure, he was her… boyfriend(?) but what did your opinion matter? You scratched your nose, trying to think of something to say.

You decided on the best move was to shrug and mumble something. She looked at you with a puzzled look in her eyes as you both stopped walking on the burning hot Californian sand. Ah, well, it must have been inaudible then. Damn. Now you actually had to figure out how to respond. 

“He’s…” 

 _God_ , what was the right word to use. He’s not… horrible. He had been quite kind to you. With the odd staring. Though, you thought, he might think the same if it turned out that your secretive studying of him hadn’t been so… secret.

“He’s, uh… alright.”

Yeah, that could work. Alright. That was the word to use about a man you had very confusing feelings about. It hadn’t been this complicated with Paul and Linda. And those were two people! At the same time! God, was it because you had been out of the dating game for so long? Having been comfortable in the domestic life of a married couple? You felt warm, and not the kind from the blasting sun, from thinking of him in the same vein you did Paul and Linda. It was a needless effort. Nothing would come from it. He seemed to have a lot on his plate anyhow. What with a wife, mistress (girlfriend?) and the recording of an album. Also; he had a son! Man, you had completely forgotten about little Julian. Little? How old was he even? Ten? Older?

Your head started to head at the rush of thoughts and you pushed a lid unto that well of streaming thoughts. It had been a rather simple question but here you were; overthinking it. You knew you had the McCartney’s permission to do whatever in that area of your personal life. So, really, nothing to worry about… Right.

May looked at you with a knowing smile. Like she knew more than she let on and it made your heart beat at a sudden rapid pace.

“Well, he likes you.”

“R-Really?”

“Yes, he told me so last night.”

Your eyes flickered around her face as the information was divulged. He… had talked about you with her? Last night? When? After they had gone to bed? You hadn’t heard them talk, only… moaning. And the similar sounds. So this must’ve been afterwards when you had somehow managed to fall asleep. The thought of them lying in bed… sweating and panting. Talking about you. It made you feel… odd. And not in a bad way. Made you feel rather… satisfied. Vain, perhaps.

“He likes you… very much,” and she fucking  _winked_!

You stumbled through your next words. A lot of ‘ _I_ ’ and ‘ _what_ ’ tried to make their way out of your chapped lips (sun plus no chapstick, baad) and you ended up huffing and looking to your feet that had slowly dug itself underneath the warm sand. You finally looked back up with a scrunched up nose and narrowed eyes.

“…Why… did you tell me that? Aren’t you… dating?”

You hoped you had gotten the message behind her comment right or else you would be in deep waters.

“Well, kind of, yeah. We are. But not really, y’know? He’s married to Yoko still. And he does seem… happy with me. Yet he still remains… lost. Without her.”

You nodded carefully at her words; trying to understand and comprehend whatever she was trying to get out and tell you.

“I want him to be happy. Whatever goes on with him and Yoko; my main concern is his happiness. And, well, he appeared very interested in you. Enough that it affected last night a great deal,” it was told with a small, almost not there, smirk.

“And though you fight around it; you appear interested in him too.”

She ended it with a smile and looked back to you from where she had looked over your shoulder. There was nothing but ocean behind you. You imagined it was quite a view. A little too bright, perhaps. It was only a little over lunch.

“You’re not… completely… wrong,” you muttered as you started to blush and feel (maybe a little) bashful at the thought of your interests and stares having been so  _obvious_. She nodded enthusiastically at you. 

“Good!” She clapped her hands together once and looked at her watch. 

“You’ll have the house for yourself tonight. He doesn’t know but you can tell him all about it.” 

And with a smile and a quick hug, she rushed off; ignoring your shouts of confusion at the shocking information she had just sprung on you. Oh, the gall of the women. What is she playing at? A fucking matchmaker? Oh, this was painful. And left you with a certain musical number stuck in your head. 

It was tempting, you had to admit so much. Alone with John… Well, while tempting… it also left you with an anxious feeling. And the thought of running into the ocean to join the fishes for eternity seemed like a ludicrous but tempting idea. But it couldn’t be. You had nothing else to do so you could just pull off the bandaid and wish for the best and hopefully not bleed to death. You resigned yourself to rush to the hotel. Bathe. Scream into a pillow. Dress and head for his ridiculously white house.

“ _Oh, matchmaker, matchmaker. Make me a match. Find me a find, catch me a catch. Oh, matchmaker, matchmaker_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with no care in the world."


	5. chapter four | the love bug will get you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here i am, here i am, here i am, here i am, here i am, here i am, here i am, here i am, here i am, here i am, here i am,

You spent the hours leading up to your solitary meeting with John drinking in your room. Drinking  _a lot_. Drinking whatever of tiny bottles that could be found the mini fridge and then moving on to ordering a large amount of alcohol with some snacks that paled in comparison. Now, you weren’t getting completely wasted. You had to have your mind with you when you met up with John, but it had been enough for you to get some false courage and the mind to get a cab ride to his place of residence. And so you got dressed in one of the few clean dresses you still had left; you had really failed so far on the  _laundry front_  of the vacation, but it suited nicely for the… get-together. Neither too formal nor casual, just enough of either for the occasion. You laid on your stomach on the bed, watching the minutes fly by till your car ride arrived. 

You spend the ride muttering to yourself at the gall of May and of your disbelief in the situation. What was the point of this? What was her goal in this? Did she want the two of you to… hook up? Did John really want that too? Did  _you_  want it? You took a large swig of the tiny vodka bottle you had stuffed down your bra as you neared John’s ridiculous rented house. The large beach estate seemed looming and threatening as you exited and tripped out of the taxi, you made sure to throw more than enough cash at the driver before inching closer to the building that emerged over the pale moonlight, dwarfing you with its size. Now the sober part of your mind knew it really weren’t all that large, (you had seen it before!), but the drunk mind- the mind in charge- disagreed with that logical thought.

You hammered on the door with great speed as you felt the March evening air wrap its chill claws around you. “Helloo,” you called out as you continued knocking obnoxiously on the smooth wood. You steadied yourself the best you could on the blurred and moving ground as you readied yourself for the inevitable drama that were to follow the door opening. It was as if in slow motion as you watched the door open up to reveal John. Standing there, he looked down on you from over his glasses, his hair frayed and curling at its edges, with a glass of something golden in hand; he stepped aside to let you in with a smirk. “May told me you’ll come,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

The house looked the same as it did the previous day and just that very morning, (which was no surprise, really), but there was something different about it. Some large and domineering sensation that crawled on the edges of your mind; not fright- you weren’t scared, but there was something that sent shivers of anxiety up your spine as you watched John walk around you and towards what you knew to be the living room. ( _Fuck_ , he smelled nice). You hadn’t felt like this since… well, since you first met Paul and Linda. That presence of love and wonder building in your chest, choking you as it grew its way up your throat. You shook your head at the thought; you weren’t  _in love_ with John. Ridiculous! You just met the guy! And, besides…  _besides_  you had Paul and Linda! Screw what they had told you of the freedom you have to find your own person and a life of your own! You were content with your lot in life!

You finally noticed John staring at you from the living room couch with a narrow eyes, raised brows, and questioning look on his face. The open fireplace illuminated him quite nicely in the dim lighting of the room. Shaking your head, you mumbled some nonsense to yourself and almost tripped over your own feet in your hurry to get into the same room as your bespectacled host. You took an unnecessary large step over the threshold to the new room and heard him laugh; something that sent electrifying sparks through your spine, making you bump right into a weird nondescript statue in your distraction. You managed to save it, though looking at it, you wish you hadn’t. God, it was ugly.

“Whoopsie,” you laughed and placed the… thing back into its  _proper_  place. You turned around to find him sitting in the long, hard looking couch that he had been standing up against when you waltzed in and made a fool of yourself. It was… not far different from how everything in house looked. Bleak and uncomfortable. Hadn’t he told you a friend of his decorated the place? He didn’t seem the type to hang out with sorts with those kinds of… taste. Nevertheless, you weren’t in a place to judge and so you flopped down very ungracefully on the identical couch opposite him, only separated by an expensive-looking glass table between the two of you. “So,” you began with a sigh, not knowing what you were about to say. “...So,” he copied with a smirk you didn’t know whether to like or detest. You felt none of your usual nervosities or social boundaries made by your anxieties (thanks, alcohol!) and felt a rush of something you had never quite felt before. You bit your lip and asked what laid heavy on your mind; “what am I doing here? Like… why?”

His eyebrows furrowed in the small pause that followed your question before he answered, “May told me you wanted to come and visit.”

“What!” You couldn’t control yourself and shot up from your seat, swaying as your legs tried to follow your quick movement. “She told me  _you_  wanted me here!”

He stood up, much more carefully than what you had, with a chuckle and his dark eyes focused on you and your muttering self. Curses fell loosely from your lips as you paced around wondering about the situation you had landed yourself in this time. May seemed to have a good grasp of things. You knew you had figured out her plan in getting you to his place but sure had been a round-about way she had gone about it. She was more shrewd than you had realised and, well, you couldn’t help but admire that. Even if it had given you a confusing few minutes before you realised it really weren’t all that big a deal. You turned back to John, locking eyes with the singer; “got any booze?”

“Of course,” he said with a wide grin and lead you towards a cabinet near the entrance that connected the living room with the kitchen.

You stood hovering in his immediate presence as you watched him pour two glasses of Japanese malt whiskey, the foreign letters looking strange as ever in your intoxicated mind. You looked closely at the bottle over his shoulder, trying to read the language you did not know, but he seemed not to mind as he continued pouring, his slender fingers wrapped around the glass in such a way that send thoughts through your mind that you would have shunned away immediately only hours prior. You tiptoed around as he turned and turned in his attempt to get past you; he seemed amused by your antics. You finally stepped aside with a laugh and gleefully accepted the fine whiskey glass as it were handed to you. “Cheers,” he said with a charming smile and you took a sip from the whiskey, excited to taste the Japanese variant you had never seen before.

You finished the glass quicker than he; your nerves still lingering at the edges of your mind, urging you on to drink and drink till you no longer felt their phantom restraints. You shuddered as the last of the liquor slid down your throat and licked your lips tenderly to get the last few drops that remained. You found him watching you intensely and then you found yourself winking-  _winking_. What were you doing! He chuckled and moved towards the couch; you faithfully trailed along behind him, this time sitting next to him rather than a mile or two away. And, well, you were sitting rather close to him too. You were unsure what really made it happen, the alcohol or whatnot, but something in your brain had surely snapped as you looked upon him with a strong urge to just… to just grab him. And if you hadn’t terribly misjudged, by all appearances he felt the same. 

You tried to start a conversation, to distract from the warm feelings coming over you like a blanket or a cup of hot cocoa on a snowy day. You mentioned the previous day; Stevie Wonder, Harry Nilsson and lastly… Paul. The subject of…  _him_  were one you were careful and a tad… nervous about. But they had seemed to go with ease about it the day previous. No signs of the hard breakup that you had otherwise heard so much about, (mostly from the tabloids and who were to say if most of that had even been trustworthy). But you had seen Paul on both good days, and bad, and you knew that the end of _the_   _swinging sixties_  still had a hard hold on him.

John seemed… very interested in your connection to Paul. You knew he was well aware that you worked for him and Linda but he seemed to suspect something else were going on, though he didn’t let you on to the fact but you could sense it in the way he asked certain questions. Mentioned women he had seen Paul with in their ‘youth’ and how he acted around them. You were sure he were making connections there, and you did not like it. You wanted to diverge. You  _needed_  to  _diverge_. You couldn’t let him suspect anything. You weren’t sure of the repercussions of him finding out but you weren’t about to experience it! You need to be smooth about it. Cracking your neck, you stretched out your arms in a fake yawn, “oh, will you look at the time, my my,” and went to carefully place your hands folded in your lap when you, on your way down from the stretching heights you had let your hands go on, knocked down the whiskey glass John were still holding. Thankfully, it was empty, but it shattered on the hardwood floor and the shimmering crystal spread out over the smooth flooring; reminding you of sugar or sparkling snow. “Shit,” you cursed in unison and knocked your heads together as you leaned forward to look at the mess scattered around your feet.

You groaned and leaned back into the couch, holding a hand on your throbbing forehead.  _God_ , what a mess (and distraction!) you made. You had to take the victory with the pain; you supposed. 

You came over your mild pain and shock while watching him tut around the bright room, broom and dustpan in hand as he hurried away again with the sprinkles of glass resting on it. He reappeared, hands free and his hair a curling mess around his square jaw; you muttered curses to yourself, after yet again getting dragged into his sparkling eyes. He came to stand in front of you in the time you were scolding yourself and you blinked at him, not knowing what he was planning to do as he just… stood there, in front of you where the cascade of broken glass had once laid. He came closer, and closer, ‘till he finally where close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath and the whiffs of cologne hanging around him. You felt your heartbeat in your throat as his lips gingerly touched yours and you felt electrifying sparks at the velvety touch, and you continued to completely melt into it; forgetting all that hounded you all day, letting this new sensation overflow you as he slowly sat down next to you, dragging you along as the kiss deepened.


	6. chapter five | play on it.

Arms wrapped around you, a beacon of great trust and comfort, as a steady motion rocked throughout your body and his. Sounds of pleasure filled the room as you moved in sync to the rhythmic ecstasy. You couldn’t recall how but, somehow, you and John (a man who now held you tight) had moved to one of the many bedrooms in the large estate. You remembered a flurry of drunken laughter and kissing before landing with a thud on the safe and soft blankets of a wide bed. You were quickly undressed, something that quickly passed you by in your hurry to touch and kiss every available bare skin you could find. His head disappeared between your legs and you felt your body quake and your mouth open in silent gasps. Time flew in magical swirls as the two of you had your way with each other; it wasn’t until much later when John was softly snoring beside you that it all hit you like a ton of bricks, causing you to rush the bathroom with a sudden fever. You had slept with John. Something that sent shivers through you of both excitement and dread. When Linda and Paul had talked about you finding  _someone_ , you could bet your life savings on that that someone they had been thinking about hadn’t been  _John Lennon_.

You stood heaving for air in that solitary and frightening bathroom, only just barely noticing the time being somewhere in the AM. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care. You felt that you had thoroughly fucked up. Something between Paul and John clearly lingered, feelings raw and unmentioned. And this… _situation_  would undoubtedly  _not_  make it any better or easier on any of them. 

After you had drunk what felt like several litres of water, you had finally managed to calm down and steady your breathing, getting the unsettling panic mostly out of the way. Far away for it to be forgotten for long enough for you to figure out your next move in a calmer and more rational way than the multiple panicked thoughts of running away to Mexico that had originally struck you when you had first viewed your frazzled appearance in the wide, mocking, mirror. You had never sobered up as fast as you did now, watching the blurry shape of yourself in the undoubtedly expensive mirror.

You were in a rush to get out, to get away, and haphazardly threw your clothes back on; saving a few careful glances to John, still sleeping soundly and still as a stone. You rushed through the hallway-, past the lines of photos of landscapes and pictures of people, ignoring their whispered hauntings. You swore you had seen a picture of  _the band_  in your sprint down the hall but your legs were incapable of stopping in their hurry to get to their target. Were you overreacting? Surely what you had done hadn’t been all too bad. Both of you were grown adults with lives of your own. Paul needn’t know, (as much as keeping such a secret from him frightened you. He deserved to know). Sure, they had a… rough falling out. There was the rougher breaking up of the band. Things were clearly left unsaid and even clearer- left ignored if their earlier meeting had been any indication. But that weren’t up to you… Right? Not something you could, or should, fix. Even if you cared for them both deeply. Your body shook and shivered as you neared the front door. You tore it open fervently and was nearly knocked cold by a raised fist that met you in its entrance. You blinked in shock for a silent moment before stepping back as you realised the beholder of the first; one that looked more shocked than you felt. Paul.


	7. chapter six | the day walk (never before)

Your mouth opened and closed continuously as you stared in shock at the surprise visitor to the house that you didn’t belong to you. What was Paul doing here, and at this hour? You could tell by his similar appearance to yours that he were thinking the exact same things about you, if not more so. For he was an old-time friend of John and for all Paul knew; you didn’t know John at all. And, yet, there you were- about to exit his house so early in the morning with only his old pal left back in the house. “Paul! I… I-uh,” you stammered, panicking as you fidgeted around with your hands, feeling completely unsure of what to say or how to explain yourself. You had been focused on the floor, its small cracks and patterns in the concrete when you heard the faint whisper of your name and slowly turned your gaze back to Paul.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked visibly curious and a tad worried- it was in his eyes. You stepped aside and leaned against the door, resisting the urge to bash your head against it.  How  _the fuck_ were you surprised to explain yourself? “...Well… Uh,” so you really were for a lack of words,  _huh_? Luckily (or not so, depending on how it would turn out) a distraction arrived by the appearance of John going down the stairs. He wore a light blue bathrobe and his hair surrounded him like a messy halo. He wore his glasses with a tired and questioning look as he saw the two of you by the open door. He called out to Paul in ecstatic surprise and came to stand by you as he looked upon the younger man. He invited him in with the question of- “what’re you doing at this hour?”- and you closed the door while keeping youeyes to the floor; wishing it would let you sink into it and away from the coming conversation you had no clue as how to handle. You heard the wind howl outside (it was a lonely March night) and it reminded you of the laughter of hyenas; laughing at you.

They sat next to each other, already deep in concentrated conversation as they sat on looked at each other; their legs crossed and sitting halfway on the couch to properly face each other. You would offer to take a walk, give them some privacy, if it hadn’t been for evolving dreadful weather in bleak blackness or the fact that they seemed to have quite forgotten about you. You took it as some relief and sat in an armchair a little further away from them- the chair almost swallowed you up as you slinked down into it. You heard your name mentioned a few times, along with the occasional glances cast to you but it was hard to pay it any mind as you sank further into the chair and the lids of your eyes grew heavy. The last thing you remembered hearing before drifting off to dreamland were the wind and the entangled laughter of the two Beatles.

**—**

You woke up later- how much was unknown to you but no longer did you hear the roaring winds and instead was greeted by sunshine through the blinds and the comforting smell of roasting coffee from the kitchen. You heard faint laughter and willed yourself up the incredibly plush chair to slowly make your way towards the wonderful aroma; hoping your body would soon wake up and make the trip easier. In the kitchen stood Paul. He greeted you with a rather dopey smile and the exclamation of “you’re awake!” He had been pouring coffee into two separate cups and immediately at the sight of you turned around to get a third. 

“John’s in the music room,” he said in a lively tone and nodded towards a room that was (before now) unknown to you. It made sense the house had a music room, you supposed. It did serve as a home for multiple musicians. Though, you realised now, you had seen no one else but John and May in this blasted white space. And, sure enough, when you went towards the room and went ever nearer and nearer- you heard the faint playing of piano. It was a wonderful little melody with a tinge of familiarity. You knocked carefully on the closed door before entering. In there sat John at the piano; dressed and hair combed, a stark contrast to how he had looked last you saw him. He looked over his shoulder with a faint smile- “she awakes,” he softly laughed and scooted slightly on the piano stool, showing it was for you to sit.  And so you did. You looked demurely down at the black and white keys- trying not to overthink or wonder too much about the conversation you had missed by falling asleep. The conversations that had been brought up. The relation as to the mentioning of your name. You had an assumption as to why but not one you could divulge much into as you felt John look at you. 

“Paul and I talked,” you heard him say and felt his slender fingers touch your own that rested on the space between you on the stool. “He’s not angry,” you finally looked at him and could see the reassurance in his eyes- telling you that he knew you worried and that it was all right. “In fact…. He… supports it,” now it was his turn to look worried. Hesitant. “Supports us going further… if that’s what you want,” he looked to the keys where your eyes once rested. Did you want that? You supposed you would. The thought wasn’t bad but there was just… so much going on.

“What… what about your wife?” ‘ _And May_ ,’ you thought. For you had to ask. They were… what? Separated? About to divorce? The fuck did you know? And May… God, May. What a trooper. She probably wouldn’t be much against it. All things considered- y’know, for her being to blame for anything in that bedroom happening at all. And even if she didn’t exit the relationship completely (or at all), you wouldn’t mind. She was wonderfully kind and not at all hard on the eyes.

You watched him give a timid shrug and push down a key- resulting in a high-pitched wail that crawled out from the piano’s depth and into the wide open room. “I don’t know,” he whispered before continuing in a regular volume, “I love Yoko very much… I won’t lie, but… we want different things… I suppose.” He played a soft tune- something you recognised from one of his solo adventures. You desperately wanted to help him… advise him… something! But you know nothing of married life, except from what you had experienced and seen from the McCartney couple. And you could easily assumed they lived quite differently from what the Ono-Lennon pair did in New York. You softly placed your hand on his, stopping him from playing, and dragged into a cupped hold- both of your hands on either side of his. “I want to be with you.”

You knew not exactly how you had come to this realisation but… there it was. You wanted to be with him. You loved Linda and Paul but you loved him too- from all you had experienced so far. It was quick and sudden but you found yourself not minding. Life should be livedin the moment and dragging it out and waiting might as well cause more harm than good, you supposed. His marital… situation was a puzzle to you but not one you saw as a big glaring issue- not as much as you probably should’ve. You had played a role in the life of a married couple before and didn’t mind going into the folds of another one- albeit drastically different by all measures. You squeezed his hand with a careful smile, “we’ll take it one day at a time and deal with things as they come… okay?” He nodded and pushed up his glasses slightly as they had fallen down a bit from his awkward position at the piano. You leaned in and met his lips in a careful lock. It didn’t last long, but every moment counted and you drew back with a smile that reached the eyes- and so did he. 

“Coffee’s ready!” you heard as an excited yell from the kitchen, somehow managing its way through the hard door and walls. You smiled brightly at the thought of the wonderful smell that had awoken you and took John’s hand back into yours. You guided both of you up and slowly went towards the door- towards your new and exciting life that would undoubtedly be full of trials and tribulations but you were more than eager for it and the experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> th-th-that's all, folks!


End file.
